Polar Forces
by Jerne
Summary: Sequel to Polar Beings. Three years later, three Jedi gather an army in preparation to take on the Empire. Across the galaxy another planet is threatened. One man has the key to unite the two planets and spark the flames of rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Tranton Strople shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he sipped his beverage; a local favorite he'd been told. Wincing at the alcoholic drink's strong flavor, something he would guess to be closer to Hutt sweat than anything else, he scanned the establishment's unsavory cliental. This was not the type of place he normally frequented. He supposed it was appropriate, if not a bit clichéd, for the business he was there to conduct.

A shapely twi'lek strolled to his table and sat down, seductively moving her pink tentacles as she flashed a shy smile. "Buy me a drink handsome?"

He looked at her in disgust. He never understood what human males found even remotely attractive in trans-species relationships. Maybe it was all the propaganda the Empire dished out discouraging such relationships, or maybe it was just plane old good taste - something he was confident he had plenty of - but the only emotion he felt when he looked at her was pity.

He shook his head with an air of disinterest, purposely casting his gaze at a very attractive woman a few tables away. The twi'lek merely shrugged and got up.

"Your loss sweetheart. I was feeling generous tonight."

He cringed inside as he thought about the number of men she'd no doubt felt generous with in the past. This was why he hated the _Outer Rim_.

"What's wrong Strople, she a bit too much for you?"

He turned to see his contact approach with two drinks. The man sat across from him, sliding one of the drinks in his direction. He grimaced as saw that it was the same drink he'd been sipping on.

"The bartender says it's a local favorite. I see you've already indulged. Any good?"

Strople looked at him with annoyance. "I have a funny suspicion it's been tested for chemical warfare only to be deemed to inhumane to use."

His contact laughed heartily before gulping down his corellian ale.

"I see you passed it up for something a little more traditional," he wryly inserted.

The contact shrugged with a humorous grin. "You know me Strople; I've never been one to live on the wild side."

"Oh yes, I forgot you like do things the safe way. That's why you called me out here to this gods forsaken pit to discuss what I can only assume to be classified Imperial information."

The contact shrugged again. "You know me too well."

Strople replied with a smile of his own. "So let's have it Gat. What treasonous act do you need me to do?"

Gat Westlen scanned the bar for eavesdroppers. Satisfied that their conversation was their own, he leaned in, absent mindedly fingering the rim of his mug. He continued to smile but his eyes were stone hard serious.

"You know that conversation we had a while back where you pointed out that the only profitable business was an illegal one, namely smuggling?"

Strople nodded, leaning in to hear Gat's lowered voice. "Yeah, I remember. You said it was a fool's idea if I recall. You said that if the Hutts didn't find me than Lord Vader would, probably due to an anonymous tip from the Hutts."

"Well, what if I offered you the chance to smuggle in a territory that the Hutts can't touch."

Strople huffed under his breath, shaking his head. "The Hutts are everywhere. You know that."

Gat just smiled playfully, like a child with a secret they couldn't wait to tell. Instead of replying he merely placed a small object on the table.

Leaning in, Strople strained to see it in the bar's dimly lit atmosphere. Picking it up, he carefully inspected it. Puzzled, he placed it back down and shrugged.

"Okay, just what the hell is it?"

Gat again scanned to make sure the object hadn't attracted any unwanted attention before replying. "It's a piece of artwork from a planet called _Bryum_. It's made of an alloy unlike anything we've ever seen. Harder than any known metal, it's light, very durable and it naturally shields against radiation without the poisoning effects that most alloys have."

"And they use it to make art?"

"They use it to make everything. There so much of the stuff that you can purchase it for next to nothing."

Strople looked at it again, frowning. "So what's the catch? Why can't the Hutts get their hands on it?"

"Because, only a select few in the Empire know about it. _Bryum_ isn't in any of the known regions."

"Where is it than?" Strople asked, his curiosity peaking.

"In a galaxy known as the _Milky Way_. The only way to get there is through a black hole in the _Maw Cluster_."

Strople burst into a fit of laughter, drawing a few looks from surrounding tables. Gat joined in to give the appearance of two drunken friends sharing a joke.

"You can't be serious! A black hole?" Strople said a little too loud.

"Lower your voice you idiot!" Gat stressed in a hushed voice. "Three years ago the Empire constructed and successfully tested a craft specially designed for black hole exploration. They discovered a whole new galaxy. The Emperor himself led an invasion on some small planet called _Earth_. Ever since, they've been exploring other systems, secretly expanding the Empire."

"If that's true," Strople began with a frown, "than just how the hell am I supposed to get to this Bryum? I don't know if you noticed but I don't have any black hole star craft in my humble fleet. Not to mention that the Empire no doubt has the black hole in question under tight security."

Gat smiled knowingly, sipping his ale.

"Okay, so what's your plan then?"

Gat's smile grew wider. "Join my fleet. I've been stationed to _Bryum_ overseeing the mining operations. As the leading Imperial officer I'll have access to, let's just say, 'extra' quantities of the alloy. If you came with me I'd see to it that you were in charge of shipments to various locations in the Empire. Should some of the 'extra' _bryumine alloy_ disappear during the shipments…"

"You want me to join the Imperial Navy? I thought you knew me better than that."

"Do you realize how rich we could become? This alloy is just the scratch on the surface. There are thousands of worlds yet to be discovered with their own unique gifts just waiting to be smuggled. Weapons, new technology," he paused and raised his mug, "recreational stimulants. The list goes on and on."

Strople considered his words, sipping on his pungent concoction. "The Hutts would actually be coming to us for business. We could have them eating out of our hands."

"Exactly," Gat said. Raising his mug in a toast, he smiled. "To our new partnership."

Strople raised his in return, clinking the mugs together. "Why the hell not? Let's do it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 – Signs of Rebellion**

Darkness encased the world as Brian closed his eyes. Relaxing his muscles he eased himself into a meditative trance, reaching out through the Force. Slowly, darkness gave way to color, as the world around him became a vast plain of grassy knolls and endless green. Soft clouds rolled lazily in the gentle breeze that seductively caressed his skin under the warm glow of the sun.

Brian Hughes was at peace. Even _he_ couldn't find him here.

Standing in the metaphoric plain he'd created, he strolled the lone countryside in summer's eternal brace. Thoughts of pressing matters came to mind as he contemplated his life and the lives of countless others. It was so easy to organize his brain here, as no distractions interfered.

"Master?"

'_Or at least unwanted distractions,'_ he mused.

Brian turned to find his student had joined him. He smiled gently and beaconed the padawan to him. "Mark, I'm glad you're here."

"This really is beautiful," his apprentice replied, his face betraying the awe he felt.

"Now you know why I come here."

Master and apprentice walked silently, neither speaking, as they were lost in their thoughts. In the distance a lake could be seen shimmering in the midday sun. Ripples created by the wind gently lapped the shore. They continued towards it, as if drawn to its magnificent splendor.

They paused at its edge and sat, taking in the beauty that beheld them.

"It will begin sooner than expected, won't it?" Mark asked without a hint of emotion.

Brian nodded, his gaze held steady on the deep blue waters. "Yes," he softly replied.

They both remained silent as they accepted this fact. War was inevitable. Since the Earth's occupation by the Empire, more and more people had begun to resist the strain of its oppressive rule. Around the world, people were uniting, willing to make a stand. They only waited for someone to lead them.

Brian accepted this burden. The resolution to lead was reached neither by choice or desire but through necessity; he knew the Empire better than most. The intimate connection he shared with its Emperor, his _Polar Being_, made him an invaluable asset.

Guilt came with this knowledge, a guilt that tore at his soul every waking moment. It was because of his connection with Palpatine that the Earth had been occupied in the first place.

Mark could feel his master's conflict and frowned. He watched as Brian struggled to push out the remorse he felt.

"You are a good man, Master. You are doing the right thing. No matter what we've done in the past, it is our actions now that reflect who we are. If that were not so then there would be no hope for Trevor."

Brian looked at Mark and smiled. His apprentice was wise in a way he would never be. Mark's faith in him was unwavering, as was his faith in the will of the Force. "You're right my padawan, there is nothing I can do about the past. Only make right was has been wronged."

Without a word, they both stood, taking in the beauty of the lake one last time before departing. Brian had a meeting he must soon attend

Closing their eyes, the plain washed away and darkness returned.

The dense, green foliage gave way to a small clearing. Large trees bordered the opening like giant sentinels, their branches weaving together into a living canopy that yielded little light.

Within the clearing stood a lone man, dark shadows obscuring his features, giving any who might cross his path the surreal impression that he was not quite human.

* * *

Except for his eyes, nearly black in color, he did not move. Indeed, he hadn't in over an hour. His alert senses strained to register the approach of another. He always looked forward to these meetings; he considered them challenges. He'd yet been able to detect the other's approach. No matter how quiet the forest was, no matter how early he came, he never heard the other. It was as if the forest gave birth to him right before his eyes.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Pulling his weapon from its holster he spun around, only to find no one there.

"You're getting faster. You almost got me that time," a voice said from behind him, the direction he'd originally been facing.

Turning, he regarded the man with a frustrated scowl. "Someday I'm going to learn how you do that." His scowl relaxed into a smile as he hugged the man. "It's good to see you again my friend."

"You too Carlos. So how is the family?"

"Good, they're doing very well. My little Maria is getting bigger every day," he said, beaming with fatherly pride. "And how is Jude?"

"Oh he's learning something new everyday. Sometimes he picks stuff up so fast I fear that I'll run out of things to teach him by the time he's five," the man joked. "Sarah says he's got my looks and her brains."

Carlos laughed. "I'm glad to hear things are going so well for you Brian. Tell me, has he developed any of your… special traits?"

"It's too early to say, though I wouldn't be surprised. He seems so aware of everything, but then again, what two year olds aren't?"

"I'm sure he will grow to be a great man, like his father."

Brian nodded, a worried look flashing on his face for the briefest of moments. "So, how are things in the 'real' world?"

"Not good I'm afraid," Carlos said with a sigh.

"That's what I figured. Heaton's keeping everything in order I take it?"

"Everyday he comes up with another law; another reason to punish innocents for committing a crime that was perfectly legal just the day before."

Brian looked Carlos in the eyes. "He's getting closer to finding us, isn't he?"

Carlos shrugged. "His informants are everywhere, but you need not worry; he's still hitting dead ends. No one knows where you are; most don't even know who you are. The interrogations only lead to more questions than answers."

"I still don't like it. Innocent people are dying because of me."

"No," Carlos corrected. "They are dying for a cause they believe in. You represent the hope that we will one day win the Earth back its freedom."

Brian frowned. In his heart he disagreed and Carlos understood why. How could he represent hope when he was the reason the Empire was there in the first place?

"I have news from our contact in Moscow," Carlos continued. "It seems the workers are getting restless. Word is spreading throughout all the camps in Asia and Europe. It won't be long before they revolt."

Brian shook his head. "Not too soon I hope. We need more time. If they revolt, Heaton will slaughter them just for the sake of pride; and Quietus won't do a thing to stop him."

Carlos spat, cursing under his breath. "Quietus, that murderous traitor! The Jedi should have killed him when he had the chance."

Frowning Brian could only shake his head. "Obi-Wan did what the Force willed him too." He paused, a look of reverence composing his face. "Things would have turned out much worse if it weren't for him."

"You are a wise man Brian, but you'll have to forgive me if I disagree."

Brian smiled and clasped Carlos on the back. "That's why you're my General, Carlos. I need a man who is not afraid to voice his opinion, even when it differs from mine."

Carlos smiled in appreciation. "I am humbled you think so."

Brian looked around, a frown shadowing his face briefly. "I need to get going soon. Tell me, what of the U.S.? How are things progressing there?"

"Much more swiftly. More and more people are rallying to our cause." Carlos paused as if reluctant to continue. "But the situation is growing unstable in Alaska. Men are dying everyday in the harsh conditions. Heaton's solution, of course, isn't to create a safer work environment. He just pulls more men away from their homes and families to replace them. This may grow more volatile than Moscow."

It was Brian's turn to curse under his breath. "Okay. Send some men there to help. Should things get out of hand we may need to step in and cool things down. In the mean time, send the word out to get ready. If things do get beyond our control, and Heaton steps in, we need to be prepared."

"I don't like this Brian. It's as if Heaton wants a rebellion. It's as if he's using these workers to draw you out."

"That's exactly what he's doing, and he just may succeed. If no one steps in to lead these men, Heaton will pick them off like caged animals. He knows we need more time and will do anything he can to take it away from us."

"I will do what I can to slow things down," Carlos said. "I will be in contact with you soon. I suggest you get ready to leave."

Brian nodded. "I will. May the Force be with you."

Carlos nodded. "You too my friend."

Carlos turned to leave and paused. Looking back, he smiled. Brian had vanished.

* * *

The Star Destroyer _Tradition_ hovered Earth's surface like a giant bird of prey. The newest addition to the Empire was a grand example of their permanent presence on the small planet. Tie's swarmed around it, screaming as their engines propelled the small craft through space.

Grand Moff Heaton stood on the command center's catwalk, surveying the men below as they monitored the ship's many systems. A smile graced his lips as he approached the view screen. Earth stood below him in its ominous beauty.

"I assume the ship is to your liking Heaton?"

Frowning, the Moff turned to the man who dared speak to him. "It will do, Lord Quietus," he replied curtly.

"I hope so," the Sith Lord replied. "It's taken us nearly two years to build it. The Emperor was growing impatient."

Indeed, the Emperor's patience had been severely tested as the ship went well over budget and went more than six months over schedule thanks to Heaton's special modifications and requirements.

"The Emperor placed me in charge of bringing this galaxy's pathetic inhabitants into the Empire. I do not need remind you, Lord Quietus, that as Grand Moff of an un-established region I will no doubt encounter special needs that will require a more than average ship. One never knows what they'll encounter and should be prepared for anything."

Quietus frowned as he listened to the man's justifications. Heaton had yet to go on any explorations or invasions of the newly discovered systems. He was, however, very good at taking credit once the missions were successful.

"Are you done?" Quietus asked, returning the Moff's curt tone. "Because if you are, I have more important things to tend to."

"Do not take that tone with me, Quietus. Do not forget your place as the leader of _my_ fleet."

Quietus stepped closer, his cold eyes just inches from Heaton's. "Last I heard this was the Empire's fleet. I answer to the Emperor and Lord Vader, no one else."

Heaton took an awkward step back, clearing his throat. He glared at the men below who seemed to be enjoying the conversation a little too much. They quickly went back to monitoring their stations.

Raising his voice so everyone could here, Heaton replied, "You are here only because I allow you to be."

The Moff quickly walked away, not waiting for a response.

The corner of Quietus' mouth pulled up as he watched him leave. "We'll see who stays and who goes soon enough," he mumbled.

* * *

Brian smiled as he emerged from the dense rain forest. His padawan was meditating on the edge of the clearing, waiting for him.

"How did it go Master?"

"We must be prepared to leave soon, Mark. As we feared, the world is growing restless."

His padawan nodded, standing gracefully. "Moscow?"

Brian nodded. "Alaska too."

Sad resignation overcame his apprentice's face. "We may not have enough men."

"Carlos is doing his best to slow things down. Hopefully that will be enough."

Nodding, Mark decided it best not to express his doubts. Brian noticed this and stopped. "You don't think he'll succeed, do you?"

"It is in the Force's hands Master."

Brian smiled. "You would make a great politician, my young apprentice."

Mark returned his master's smile. "I just don't believe in expressing negative thoughts. It degrades confidence and instills a sense of foreboding."

"A fine attribute that any leader should have."

Master and padawan continued their way to the encampment.

"Any word on my father?" Mark asked almost second hand.

"No, just that Heaton's pushing for the revolt in Alaska. I'm sure once the workers rebel your father will show himself."

Brian gauged his pupil for a reaction. Only calm waves reverberated through the Force. Mark was a perfect example of contentment, no matter what the situation. He shielded his feelings about his father well.

"So where is my other student?" Brian asked, changing the subject.

"Trevor has gone with Marcus looking for food. I don't think Marcus trusts his decisions after last time."

Brian laughed as he recalled Marcus' reaction to the goat meat Trevor had purchased. "I can't say I blame him."

"I don't think that's the only thing Marcus doesn't trust about him," Mark added.

"I'm afraid that will always be a problem for Marcus."

Trevor Cook, a convicted murder, was certainly the last person Brian ever expected to train as a Jedi. He couldn't deny his surprise in how much the man had changed over the last three years.

In the beginning, Trevor was aggressive, mean and dangerous, even after his supposed change of heart while confined in Obi-Wan's body. Struggling with his inner demons, he had found that only extensive meditation and training helped him confront himself and bring about the changes that only he could make.

Now Trevor barely resembled the man he once was. Haunted by his past, he worked extra hard to prove he had changed. He was determined to pay retribution for his crimes until the end of his days.

It took a while but Brian finally began to trust the man with whom he'd been charged with training. Mark too had grown close with him, seeing much of the man his father once was. Like Trevor, his father had once been a reformed convict before Darth Sidious had seduced him to the darkside.

Brian's wife, Sarah, had been slow to come around, but eventually she too had learned to trust him. Only Marcus refused to give him a chance. Always watching his every move, Marcus was convinced that the day would come when Trevor would betray them.

"Brian! Mark!" A pleasant voice called to them.

Sarah Hughes approached with a small boy in her arms.

"Why Mrs. Hughes, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" Brian teased.

"Your son missed you," she replied, giving him a kiss before thrusting the small child into her husband's arms.

Brian hugged his son who rapped his pudgy arms around his neck.

"How's my little Jedi doing?" He asked as he looked at his son.

"He's been asking for you all day," she smiled.

"You have?" He asked his son, who giggled in return.

Jude began to squirm as he spotted Mark. Brian placed the boy into his padawan's arms and turned back to his wife. "I hear Trevor and Marcus are at it again."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "How are these two ever going to lead an army if they can't get along with each other?"

"Don't worry. They'll work together when the time comes. They may not like each other but they do stand for the same cause."

"I hope you're right."

"They'll be fine," Brian reassured. "That is assuming they don't kill each other before then."

* * *

Admiral Westlen met Commander Strople at the Maw Installation hanger bay. They watched as the ship before them was loaded with personal luggage and supplies. Strople tugged at his collar, feeling very out of place in his new uniform. How Gat had talked him into this he didn't know. It was one thing to start smuggling rare alloys under the nose of the Empire; it was another to join it all together.

"You're not having second thoughts are you friend?" Gat teased.

"No, but I am wondering how the hell I end up in situations like this. Are you sure that thing is safe?" He nodded towards the ship designed specifically for the task of black hole travel.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. Before you know it we'll be there."

"And I'm going to get one of these things as my personal transport between here and there?"

"Well, it's on lone from the Empire, but yeah, that's the only way you'll ever make it back here, at least until the Empire builds something bigger."

Strople eyed the strange looking craft. Small and sleek it was obviously heavily shielded. To his surprise it was also equipped with heavy cannons.

"These things ever see any action?" He asked, nodding towards the weapons.

"These were used in the occupations of _Earth_ and _Bryum_," Gat confirmed. "These things are small but they do their job. You should have seen how long it took to transport enough supplies to build a Star Destroyer. Grand Moff Heaton, our beloved Governor, was very specific on how it was built. You're just going to love this guy."

"A real winner huh?" Strople asked.

"Let's just say the Emperor set him up in this new galaxy because no one here would work under him. He has the bad habit of rubbing others the wrong way."

"Why not just get rid of him altogether?"

"Because, believe it or not, he gets the job done. Excuse me for a moment, I need to check on some things."

Strople nodded and watched his friend leave. The ship appeared to be nearly loaded as storm troopers began boarding. He skin crawled at the thought of flying with them. He never liked storm troopers. There was something unnatural in the thought that they were all clones of the same handful of men. There was a rumor that the Emperor was considering drafting ordinary men into their ranks. It appeared that the clones were aging too rapidly, exhausting the Empires budgets. It would be cheaper to pay men to join than to grow them.

A pilot approached him and stood at attention. It took a moment for Strople to realize that the man was waiting for him to respond.

"Yeah?" He asked, sure that he sounded like a fool. He was an officer in the Imperial Navy now, not some foreman in a factory.

"Commander Strople, the ship is loaded sir. We can leave as soon as you and Admiral Westlen are ready."

"Ah, very good pilot. You can go now."

"Thank you sir," the pilot saluted.

Awkwardly, Strople returned the salute. He watched the pilot board the ship and sighed. He hated this.

"You're getting the hang of things I see," Gat said from behind him.

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this Gat," he confessed.

"You'll do fine. Oh, and around the men, call me Admiral."

"Sorry Sir," he sarcastically replied.

Gat smiled, shaking his head. "Let's go. Our men are waiting."

Nodding, he followed Gat onto the star craft.

'_This is going to be interesting,'_ he bitterly thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 – Civil Unrest**

The small market swarmed with people as they bartered for goods. Vendors dressed in humble garb solicited their wares from makeshift booths of empty crates and folding tables. Marcus looked at most of the items with disinterest, having visited the market enough to know a deal when he saw one. Trevor walked silently next to him, calmly observing the environment with mild amusement.

"Hey, Americans! I have something special for you this week!"

They regarded the vendor who called to them. Marcus frowned, recognizing a man known for his less than reliable products. Trevor, never one to pass up a deal, stopped, much to Marcus' dissatisfaction.

"Okay Rico, let's see what you got," Trevor replied with a smile.

"No, lets not," Marcus corrected. "You still owe us money for those bad tents you pawned off on us last time."

"This will make up for that, I promise! Look," Rico insisted, beckoning them closer.

Trevor looked at Marcus patiently, his grin grating through Marcus's nerves like a jagged blade.

"Fine," he finally hissed.

They approached the small booth. Rico reached under the counter and lifted a small crate, placing it on the table. Positioning it so they could see inside, he lifted the lid and smiled, his eyes darting around the market in search for unwanted onlookers. They gasped at the sight of Imperial class heavy blasters.

"Where did you get those," Trevor asked in a hushed tone.

"I'm afraid I can't revel my sources. How could I stay in business if I did?"

Marcus frowned as he observed the contents. "How many are there?"

"Fifteen; all in pristine condition."

"So you've tested them yourself?" Trevor asked.

"Well, I haven't personally tested them, but I can assure you-"

"Forget it," Marcus said.

"Wait," Rico insisted. "I will cut you a deal!"

"How much," Marcus asked.

"Normally I would take nothing less than a thousand. But for you…" He paused, a smile gracing his hardened features, "seven hundred."

"It's a deal," Trevor began, "Under one condition. We get to test them first. And you throw in five cartridges of ammo for each one. That doesn't include any test rounds we use."

Rico began to protest but stopped when they turned to leave. "Okay," he sighed. "It's a deal."

Trevor smiled. "Good. So where do we test them?"

Rico looked around before speaking, closing the lid on the box. "I know a place not far from here. No one will see. Meet me here after dark and I'll take you."

Marcus frowned. "Why can't we go now?"

"Too many people will notice if I leave early. They'll suspect something. It will be safer for all of us if we wait."

"We'll be back," Trevor promised.

They continued through the marked. Marcus frowned at Trevor.

"I don't like this. Something doesn't feel right."

"I didn't sense anything. I think you're reading too much into this. He wants to sale them as much as we want to buy them."

"You'd better be right," Marcus warned.

Trevor looked at him and grinned. "Aren't I always?"

* * *

Ted Pratt monitored the workers in his area. The bitter Alaskan wind cut through the pit, sending a series of goose bumps up his spine. The operation was far behind thanks to the latest incident. The Empire may claim to be a superior society with advanced technology, but as far as Ted was concerned, their machines sucked.

He'd complained the first time a man was mangled in the vicious teeth of the conveyor, insisting that maintenance check the safety monitoring systems. He'd learned after the fifth incident that it was useless to complain. The Empire didn't care that people were dying.

He watched as a droid buzzed past, carrying a fresh load of debris. Frowning, he shrugged off the goose bumps that caressed his flesh. If there was ever a sign that the Earth would never be the same, those droids were it. Silent in their duties, he couldn't help but feel that they were the Empire's silent spies, taking in every word and monitoring every action.

Storm troopers, in their white uniforms and menacing masks, patrolled the sight looking for stragglers. They didn't care if a man was too sick or if he was hurt. They didn't care if the worker was too old or too young. They wanted production; their precious alloys for their precious fleets.

Striping the Earth of all its resources, they raped and pillaged without the promise of replacing or rebuilding. Already they'd stripped all the metals and alloys from personal vehicles, buildings, weapons and structures. Even the Statue of Liberty had been dismantled and melted down.

The whole Earth was being thrown into a third world state as they were forced to live in huts with no electricity or modern comforts that the twenty-first century had promised. Food was scarce, usually coming from gardens that had to be guarded for fear of thievery. That was the only good thing about these work camps. They were guaranteed a warm, dry place to stay with three square meals a day. As far as advantages went, that was it when it came to this place.

He'd seen his share of suffering in the past three years. Not only had he witnessed countless deaths in the camp, he'd also seen families torn apart as fathers and sons were taken from mothers and wives. It'd been over a year since he'd seen his own family. Every day he prayed that his wife and children were safe. Every second that went by was another reminder that he'd probably never see them again.

"Damn," he hissed as he spotted a worker collapse. "Someone get that man up. Now!"

In his heart he felt bad for the man but he couldn't show any weakness. If he weren't hard on the men then they'd all suffer. The Empire would only have him killed and replaced him with someone else, possibly less competent.

"What's the problem Pratt?"

He lifted his comm, cursing under his breath. "Nothing Commander. A man just slipped. Everything's fine here."

"Everything doesn't look fine. You'd better advice that man if he doesn't want to work then we'll find someone else who does. Permanently."

Ted closed his eyes, pulling in a deep breath. "Yes sir, Commander. I'll tell him."

He quickly strolled to the man who was being assisted by a boy no older than fifteen.

"Get up old man, big brother's watching."

"He needs to see a doctor," the boy said.

Ted cursed again. "Okay, get back to work. I'll take it from here."

The boy nodded and left. Kneeling down he inspected the man. He was old, probably in his late sixties, and obviously sick. His eyes were closed as he struggled for air with short, raspy breaths. Ted placed his hands on the man's neck, checking the pulse. His fingers could barely feel the weak blood flow.

Shaking his head he lifted the comm. "We're going to need to evac this man to the med center."

"No. Leave him. He's obviously old. The Empire will not waist valuable resources on such a hopeless cause."

"I'm not going to just leave him here," Ted insisted. "He needs help. If you won't put him in a med center than at least let one of my off duty guys tend to him in the dorm."

"Fine, if you can find someone willing to waist their free time on such a hopeless cause, than by all means…"

"Thank you Commander. You are a most generous man," Ted replied, hoping that didn't sound as sarcastic as it felt.

He turned to see a pair of foremen nearby. "Hey, Jim, Lucas! Come here a second."

Jim, a young man of about twenty, and Lucas, a middle-aged man, came over.

"What's up Ted?" Jim asked.

"Help me get this guy back to the dorm. Lucas, cover for me until I get back."

"Sure thing boss," Lucas nodded.

Jim looked at the man and frowned. "Shouldn't we get him to the med center?"

"Not according to Commander Perkins."

Shaking his head, Jim knelt down and helped him lift the elderly gentleman.

"The men aren't going to take much more of this," Jim warned.

"What choice do they have? We don't have any weapons to speak of. What are we going to do? Throw rocks at them?"

Jim smiled. "Rocks, no. Something a little more lethal, yes."

"Like what?" Ted asked as they carried the man over the uneven terrain.

"Wait until we get inside," Jim promised.

They struggled up the ramp as they carried the man out of the pit. Men momentarily paused in their labors to watch. Some offered to help but Ted refused. There was no need in testing Commander Perkins' patience any further by pulling men away from their work.

As they entered the dorms they were finally relieved by off duty workers in the lounge.

"Take care of this man. Make him comfortable," Ted instructed. "Do what you can for him."

The men nodded and carried him to one of the vacant rooms.

Ted followed Jim to a small storage area in the kitchen. Behind the boxes of canned goods and dried foods he pulled out a box. Opening it, he revealed a pair of blasters.

"Jim, where did these come from?" Ted asked in mild shock.

"The underground. They also sent a few men to assist should things get out of hand. They're in my crew. They're expecting more men and weapons to come in every day. Right now the extra blasters are going to the foremen. These two are ours. When we get more, they'll go to the men."

Ted shook his head. "This is asking for trouble. If we get caught with these…"

"They'll kill us? As if that wasn't going to happen sooner or later? Look at the man we just brought here. Do you think they'd react any differently if that were one of us? These," he paused, raising a blaster, "at least guarantee that when something happens, and you know it will, we'll take a few of those s.o.b.'s with us."

Silently nodding, Ted couldn't help but agree. The men would rather die in revolt than break their bodies until they were deemed useless.

"Alright," Ted approved. "But we need to put these somewhere a little less obvious."

"No sweat," Jim nodded. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

Strople stepped off ramp and into a new world. He looked around in a daze, not quite sure what to make of what he saw. All nervousness from his first trip through a black hole was momentarily forgotten. 

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Gat asked as he joined his friend.

"This is a spaceport?" Strople asked in an unbelieving tone.

"Pretty creative I think. You have to remember that these guys were never in the Empire or the Republic. Their designs are their own."

Strople gazed up at the structure, a mixture of organic and artistic designs. He could see traces of the _bryumine alloy_ in the basic framework. Strange plants of every color weaved through it, creating a complex, yet beautiful architecture.

"Notice the lights?" Gat asked, pointing to the soft blue bulbs above them. "Those are flowers that bloom all year round. I don't know how they do it, but a team of gardeners keeps everything healthy. They also influence the growing patterns to keep this place structurally sound."

Strople could only shake his head in amazement.

"Come on, I want to show you something else," Gat prodded.

The newly appointed Imperial officer followed his friend, not sure what to expect. They walked through the crowded hanger. More of the Empire's special black hole ships, what he'd been told were _MK-61 Phantoms_, were parked throughout the hanger, as well as _Tie _and _X-wing_ class fighters. In the back, isolated, was a ship of simple design unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"Let me guess," Strople began. "_Bryum_'s own fighters."

"The _Bryumines_ built them, but not for fighting," Gat corrected. "There are no weapons, but they are structurally sound. With that alloy of theirs, these things are nearly indestructible. They can take several direct hits from a _Star Destroyer_ and still keep going."

"Do they use the same principles in their technology that we use in ours?"

Gat smiled and shook his head. "Our scientists are scratching their heads over these babies. They can fly circles around ours without even trying. We don't know how their engines work or even know what fuel sources they use. We've tried interrogating a few of the ship's designers but they refuse to talk."

"I can see why. Combine these ships with our weapons..."

"That's another thing," Gat added. "They have these blasters that they use for mining that alloy of theirs. It has enough power to punch through any shield you can think of. If they'd attached them to these ships and decided to fight us off, there's no way we could have invaded. They just refused to fight."

"They refused? Even under the threat of invasion?" Strople scoffed.

"Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"So I take it we're going to smuggle some of these blasters too?" Strople asked with a sly smile.

Gat shook his head. "Maybe one day; when the Empire figures out the technology behind them. These things have them more stumped than the ships. They don't know where it gets its power source. They tried dismantling one and were vaporized in the process."

"Do they use hyperspace technology?"

"That's the one thing they don't have," Gat admitted. "They can get pretty far in one of these things though. They've even visited that other planet I told you about, _Earth_, on a few occasions. Seems the few Earthlings they met became so freaked out that they decided it best not to visit again."

"The _Earth_ natives a little primitive?"

Gat laughed. "I'd say. They're evolution took place several millennia after ours but they do have some promise, making some impressive strides in the last hundred years or so. They have spacecraft that can orbit the planet; even made it to their own moon once, from what I've heard. They're mainly good at sending out little toys that orbit the other planets in their system, taking pictures and sending out primitive droid like exploration vehicles for collecting samples of the surface."

"Sounds cute," Strople sarcastically replied. "So when do I get to meet one of these _Bryum_ natives?"

"One thing at a time, my friend. First we need to check in at the mining facility, give Grand Moff Heaton a call, let him know we've arrived, get our orders, meet our subordinates, give them their orders… you know, military stuff."

Strople sighed unhappily, having been reminded what he'd committed himself to.

"Cheer up Commander, this is a vacation compared to some of the other jobs in the military."

"Thank the Force for small favors," Strople wryly replied.

* * *

Marcus and Trevor stepped into the deserted market. The bright moon above gave off a surreal glow on the structures around them. They approached the booth where Rico did business and waited. The wind blew softly, carrying the damp air and the promise of rain. Marcus frowned, pulling his jacket tight around his neck. 

"I don't like this," he said. "I knew he wouldn't show."

"He'll show," Trevor reassured. "You just need to have a little more trust in people."

Marcus gave him a wary look. "I don't have a problem trusting people who are trustworthy."

Trevor knew Marcus was referring to more than just Rico. Sighing, he closed his eyes and allowed the Force's gentle currents to sooth his guilt. For too many good reasons, Marcus didn't trust him and probably never would.

"He's here," Trevor said as he sensed the man approaching, "and he's alone."

"Hello my friends," Rico's hushed voice greeted them. "Come with me, quickly, before we are seen."

The two men followed Rico away from the empty market and into the dense forest nearby. Trevor made a mental note of where they were heading, though the clouds above obscured many of the stars, making it difficult to determine what direction they were traveling. They eventually came to a small clearing. Soft lamps lit the area, revealing a makeshift shooting range. Two targets sat at the end of the clearing, barely visible in the dim light. The small crate of weapons stood at their feet.

Rico placed a briefcase on the crate and opened it, revealing the extra rounds he'd agreed to.

"There are seventy-five cartridges with two hundred rounds each in addition to the fifty rounds already in the guns themselves."

Marcus pulled out a small device and stepped forward.

"What is that?" Rico asked.

"A scanner," Marcus replied. "To make sure there are no tracking devices on the weapons."

Rico looked pale in the subtle light. "They can do that?"

Trevor smiled. "Oh yeah. You really should be more careful when you agree to sale Imperial technology. They have their spies everywhere."

Marcus finished with the rounds, satisfied, and opened the crate. After a few seconds he nodded. "They're clean."

He took out a weapon and handed it to Trevor. He removed another for himself.

"These things aren't going to make too much noise are they? Attract some unwanted attention?" Marcus asked.

Rico shook his head. "I can assure you we are quite alone."

The two men proceeded to test the weapons, releasing several shots from each in order to test their accuracy.

"What do you think?" Trevor asked as he finished testing the last of the fifteen weapons.

"They seem okay," Marcus shrugged. "Pay him and let's get out of here."

Trevor nodded and pulled out the money, handing it to Rico. "Here. Make sure no one knows about this."

Rico nodded his head. "Don't worry my friends. I would be in as much trouble as you if I were caught."

They watched as the man disappeared into the forest.

"So," Marcus asked. "Do you know how to get out of here?"

Trevor smiled, wanting to ask if Marcus actually trusted him enough to lead them home. Knowing that wasn't such a good idea, he merely nodded. "Yeah man, follow me."

* * *

Grand Moff Heaton's life sized image flickered before his two newest subordinates. He wearily examined them with an air of disinterest, a disapproving scowl on his face. 

"Tell me Commander Strople; I am quite unfamiliar with your past assignments and qualifications. I assume Admiral Westlan had a good reason for selecting you above the many other _obvious_ candidates."

_'Force, this man gives me the creeps,'_ Strople thought, desperate to end the meeting.

"Well, your Grand Moffness, Sir," he started, flushing as Heaton took obvious offense. "I have an extensive background in dealing with large shipments of various valuable artifacts; objects that the owners preferred to be kept, shall we say, invisible to any unwanted eyes."

Heaton's frown deepened. "Are you saying you're a smuggler?"

"No Sir, I mean, I wouldn't call it that exactly," Stople unsuccessfully tried to explain.

"Then what exactly would you call it?" Heaton demanded, his cold demeanor hinting of the malice he was capable of.

"What he means, Sir, is that he worked under Grand Moff Tarkin, supervising shipments for his special projects."

Heaton raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Curious that Tarkin has never mentioned you."

"Well Sir," Strople explained, catching on to Gat's bluff, "as you know, the projects he's been working on are... of such an enormous size, that it's impossible for him to keep up with all of the subordinates he has assigned to various shipments."

The Grand Moff carefully examined them both for what felt an eternity before responding. "Yes, well, the Emperor has not privileged me with the information involving Tarkin's many _costly_ projects. I assume that you've been forbidden from discussing them, so I'll not ask for any further details.

"I will be keeping a close eye on you and your progress. As you know, this alloy is of the utmost importance to the Empire. Should you both prove useful, not only will I allow you to work on other, similar projects of importance, but as the Empire continues to expand in this Galaxy, the time will come when I will need to appoint a Grand Admiral to supervise the fleets under Lord Quietus' supervision. I don't need to remind you, Admiral Westlan, that as one of the highest ranking officers in this region, you would be qualified for such a promotion… should I feel inclined to give such a recommendation. And you, Commander Strople, could be the next candidate inline to take Admiral Westlan's place."

"Thank you Sir," Gat said with a bow.

"Yes, thank you," Strople added.

"These recommendations, however, will not come lightly. As you know, I am not inclined to promote just anyone. I expect strict adherence to my orders. I know this is a small region in comparison with others in the Empire, but as you know, that will not always be the case. It will be tempting to see this as a holiday of sorts, where the rules are a little more flexible as you are no longer under the close, watchful gaze of the Emperor. But let me remind you that he is ever aware of what we are doing here and will not tolerate deviation from his rules in the least. It is up to me to make sure his will is enforced and, in turn, the responsibility will fall on you to ensure that my will is enforced as well."

Heaton paused, confident that his message was well received. "Very well gentlemen. I will be watching your progress, remember that. You are dismissed."

"Yes sir, thank you," Gat bowed again as the Grand Moff's image flickered out.

"Wow," Strople said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, he's something else, isn't he?" Gat smiled.

"So what was that all about?"

"Well, he's very particular about who he has working for him. He usually brings in his close friends and associates in order to ensure he has total control. He gives them a nice, cushy job and they keep his ear full with all the latest news."

"Then what was with all that promotion talk? We're not his close friends."

"That's just the way he operates. He's trying to bribe us."

Strople frowned. "And what exactly does he expect from us?"

"That depends on what you have to offer him," Gat explained. "Me, I'm sure he wants a cut in the shipments we'll be supervising. Just like us, he wants to make a profit."

"Is that also what he wants from me?"

"You? I doubt it. He thinks you worked for Tarkin. He's going to probe you for information on the special projects you supposedly worked on."

"What?" Strople gasped in a panicked voice.

"Don't worry about it. Tarkin has many projects he worked on and I just happened to have been assigned to one of them. If he asks, just tell him you worked on the MK-61's."

"The black hole ships?"

Gat nodded. "Tarkin supervised their construction. Heaton knows that, but not too many others do. You tell him you worked on those and he'll know you're not lying."

"But I am lying."

"He'll never know that," Gat laughed, amused by his friend's paranoia. "Trust me, you'll be fine."

* * *

Trevor quietly approached the lone hut, his senses tuned in for any disturbance in the Force. His face, usually a picture of happy contentment, was tense and serious. His keen eyes scanned the darkness for anything out of place. Rain had decided to begin its decent, masking any unusual sounds. 

The hut was small but well built. From a distance it looked like any other hut, its door and walls the appearance of cheap plywood, the floor composed of dirt and weeds. Upon closer inspection one could see that the door was thick and heavy and that the walls were much sturdier than they appeared. If one were to step inside they would see a dirt floor; what they wouldn't see is the concrete underneath, nor the secret door that opened to an underground room much larger than the small hut.

Trevor rapped on the door once, paused, rapped twice more and paused again. A knock could be heard from the inside. Trevor knocked twice more and waited. The door cracked open, not enough to see inside but enough for the person on the other side to see out.

"It's late and the storm has come. What brings you here this hour?"

Trevor recognized the line and recited the correct response. "I am only a humble traveler looking for some company. I am willing to trade for food."

The door opened a bit more, bidding him to enter. As he stepped inside the door closed, bathing him in darkness. A moment later, dim light appeared as the underground door opened. He walked down the stairs and waited. A young woman, no more than eighteen, soon followed.

"Where's Marcus?" She asked.

"He's keeping watch. He felt it was safer this way."

She nodded. "So what brings you here Trevor?"

"Well Nina, I was hoping to speak with your father. He's out I take it?"

"He had some business in town. He'll be back in the morning. He told me you guys might be dropping by."

Trevor smiled in surprise. "He did? I didn't even know until a little while ago. Did he say why he thought we'd be paying you a visit?"

Nina shook her head. "No, just a gut feeling I guess. He gets those from time to time."

"Yeah, I've heard those gut feelings are usually pretty accurate."

He looked around the room. In the corner he could see a stockpile of weapons and ammo, most of them Imperial class. In another corner he could see sophisticated computer equipment and communication devices.

"I see you guys have been busy," he observed.

A smile graced Nina's pretty face. "Yes, we have. We had much more weapons than this but we've been distributing them to the underground."

"Good," Trevor nodded. "That's actually why we're here. Marcus and I've come across fifteen heavies that we thought you guys might be willing to take off our hands."

"They're clean I take it?" She asked.

He smiled his famous toothy grin. "Of course! I'd never put you guys in danger. We even tested them out. They're beautes."

"Where are they?"

"In the usual drop off point. That's still a good place, right?"

She nodded. "For now. We're looking into changing it though. Do you have ammo too?"

"Oh yeah," he winked. "Five cartridges each."

"Excellent," she grinned. "We'll check them out."

"That's all I needed to hear. Well I don't want to keep Marcus standing out there in the rain too long so give your father my regards."

"I will," she said, giving him a brief hug. "Give the guys mine."

"Oh, I'm sure Mark will love to hear that," he laughed.

"Really?" She asked in a somewhat shocked and embarrassed tone.

"The kid's crazy about you, but you didn't hear that from me."

Her face flushed. "Well, I'll see you. May the Force be with you."

"And may the Force be with you too Nina."

She walked him up the stares and let him out the hut. He found Marcus huddled under the large leaf of a banana tree.

"Miss me?" He asked.

Marcus smirked. "Tons. So will they take them?"

"Of course," He smiled. "Hey, do you think Mark likes Nina?"

Marcus gave Trevor a baffled frown. "Huh?"

"You know, she's a really cute gal and he's close to her age. I kind of told her he likes her, just to see her reaction. Man does she have the hots for him."

Marcus shook his head. "Leave it to you to take a serious meeting and turn it into an eighth grade dance."

"I just figured, with the world going the way it is, there should be at least some things for the kid to look forward to. Thanks to the Empire, he's missed out on high school, learning to drive, asking girls out, and going to prom. You know, all that awkward crap that we cringe at now but thought was oh so damn important back then."

"So in other words, Mark is actually lucky to miss all of that."

"No," Trevor shook his head. "You have to admit, those were the best years of our lives. It's a shame he has to miss out on all that. I thought I'd give him a little taste."

Marcus nodded. "If he goes for it. He's so engrossed in the whole Jedi persona he may not be interested in love right now."

Trevor smiled. "That's the best time for it to enter in his life. Love always comes when it's most inconvenient, shakes things up; makes you remember that you're alive."

"And you don't think that will distract him from the war?"

"It'll give him another reason to fight my friend. We all need that."

* * *

Admiral Heaton walked briskly towards the communications room. A small but confident smile, an expression some would describe as smug, broke on his tightly drawn lips. As he entered, the men inside immediately stood to attention… all but the impetuous Darth Quietus, he wryly observed. The two men exchanged glances tainted with distrust and mild respect.

"I take it we've heard from our spies in the rebel camps?" Heaton asked no one in particular.

"Yes Sir," Admiral Lytron replied in the nauseating tone of one eager for recognition and praise. "The rebels have begun smuggling weapons and warriors into the Alaskan mining facilities."

"Excellent. All is going as planned," Heaton smiled, leaving no question that it was his plan and no one else's.

"I still don't agree with this tactic," Quietus insisted. "Provoking the workers into rebelling will only make Earth that much harder to handle. As it is, we've lost any and all support the Emperor had gained when we first occupied the planet. The fact that we're pushing them into rebellion will not go unnoticed forever."

"I thought you of all people would appreciate the genius behind our tactics," Heaton scoffed irritably, clearly tiring of the debate. "These rebels pose no real threat to our Empire. We are merely flushing out the ring leaders and putting an end to their useless efforts once and for all; ring leaders, I need not remind you, which include your son."

Quietus frowned. "There are other ways to find them. Clearly your spy could locate them without the need for unnecessary loss of life and resources."

"I wouldn't call this unnecessary," Heaton corrected. "Remember, the leaders include more than just your son and the so called _Jedi of Earth_. In one swift action we will expose and arrest all of the leaders."

"I don't need to remind you that my son's welfare is of the utmost importance. He must be captured alive and brought to me personally."

"Yes, yes; you need not remind me of orders that came from the Emperor himself."

"Just as long as we're clear about that," Quietus stated, his eyes hard and cold. "Palpatine would be most displeased should something happen to him."

The two continued to lock stares; clearly trying to show the men around them that the one was not intimidated by the other.

"Should anything happen to your son, I will personally deal with the persons responsible," Heaton promised.

"No," Quietus corrected, his tone cold and threatening. "Should something happen to my son, I will personally hold you responsible."

"Very well," Heaton said before flashing a curt smile and dismissing Quietus with a glance at Lytron. "Is that all, Admiral?"

"Yes Sir. I will inform you the moment we hear anything else."

"Good," he nodded before leaving without as much as another glance at the men.


End file.
